Leaving Sally with her friends and tipsy resolutions, I wander out onto the balcony. It's actually pleasant for a winter evening. Feels like the mid-sixties. Our office is on the fifth floor of the Morgan Stanley building downtown. It has a great view, especially at night.
Taking a deep breath and sipping my punch, I lean my back against the balustrade to watch the drunken shenanigans of the people before me. Sally is, well, I guess you’d call it dancing, with Stan from accounting. The only motion I can see, though, is mutual grinding. Hope she won’t regret that one in the morning. Some of our clients are mingling, too, trying to get lucky with mixed success.
I'm about to turn back to my skyline when I become aware of a struggle nearby. Looking to my left, I see Tim Hinton from IT trying
